


Never Be Afraid to Die

by amadwinter



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bisexual Tony Stark, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Espionage, Eventual Happy Ending, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Identity Porn, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-06-10 18:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6969658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amadwinter/pseuds/amadwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Tony has to do is convince FBI Agent Steve that he isn't a domestic terrorist hell-bent on undermining the strength of the US government. Easy, right?</p>
<p>It's a damn shame that it's technically true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Comprises events in _Iron Man_. Also, Special Agent Steve Danvers is _indeed_ Steve Rogers/Captain America. Just trust me on this one.
> 
> This won't be updated with any consistency, and I have no idea how long it will be. The 'M' rating may go up eventually. Feel free to point out any errors or inconsistencies.

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

And really, it wasn’t.

To the casual observer, it might appear as if Tony was gleefully watching a recording of his former business partner being assassinated. After all, who could have blamed him for being happy when the traitorous mastermind that orchestrated his kidnapping had gotten his just desserts?

Well, perhaps a jury of his peers could, but Agent Steve Danvers couldn’t fit the roles of judge, jury, or executioner. Not in this case, at least.

To understand what was going on, one required some background knowledge that the agent lacked. Even Tony himself wasn’t supposed to know how many pieces were in play. But he knew far too much at that point.

He was in way over his head, and the worst part was that for once, it wasn’t his fault. 

/*--- 2 Months Before ---*/

His hands were tapping the steering wheel mindlessly to the beat of whatever godawful pop song was coming from the speakers. No matter what anyone said, it wasn’t a nervous tick. Whenever Tony was nervous, he talked excessively, and right now he was silent. Therefore, he wasn’t nervous.

And why should he be? He was just crashing a party. He’d gotten plenty of experience with that in the ‘90s. Not to mention, the event did have his name in the title. He figured he was entitled to stop by if he wanted to.

No, Tony was just excited about the suit. In just a few short hours, he would have a brand-new version cast in a gold-titanium alloy. Maybe he’d be able to get into the stratosphere this time. At the very least, the weight wasn’t going to prove as much of an issue.

The silver Audi wasn’t too ostentatious. If Tony wanted to make a scene, he would have taken something much flashier, and probably a little less German. As he pulled up to the curb, he switched the music off and pulled out a fifty for the valet. The kid smiled, and Tony had to marvel at the irony of people not tipping well at a charity event.

He saw Obadiah giving an interview on the red carpet and walked toward him with a smirk. People (mostly women) shouted for his attention, so he tossed out a few smiles and kept walking. “What’s the world coming to when a guy’s got to crash his own party?”

For a moment, Obadiah’s face remained blank when he recognized Tony. Then a large smile split his face. “Look at you. Hey, what a surprise.” And that was about all the serious talk Tony could handle while he was still this sober.

“I’ll see you inside,” he said and started to walk away before he was gently stopped.

“Hey. Listen, take it slow, all right? I think I got the board right where we want them.” Tony nodded, his attention already waning.

“You got it. Just cabin fever. I’ll just be a minute.” A minute, four hours; it wasn’t really all that important. This whole thing was just to keep him out of the lab so he didn’t drive himself insane. A party served as a great distraction while he waited for the Mark II to be finished.

He casually greeted a few people as he walked in, but he made sure not to get reeled into conversation. His eyes searched the room even as he waved at a model he thought he’d slept with. All the while, Tony made a beeline for the open bar.

“Give me a Scotch,” he said, motioning to the bartender. “I’m starving.” The man got to work at once, and Tony made sure to slip a good tip into the jar. He sidled up to the counter and leaned against it with a sigh. Events like this always went smoother after the third glass. If he was lucky, he’d even be able to find another distraction to take home with him.

“Mr. Stark.”

Tony glanced to his left and immediately saw the cheap tie and neatly combed hair. Even from the corner of his eye, Tony could tell that the guy had more of a “law and order” kind of vibe about him than the usual “nonprofit schmoozer” that tried to get his attention. “Yeah?” he drawled.

“I’m Agent Danvers.” So not a lawyer, then. Thank God for small favors.

Absently, Tony began to draw out the chemical equation for alcoholic fermentation with his finger. “Please don’t tell me that’s your real name, because ‘Agent’ would sound terribly disappointing to scream in bed. Not to mention awkward and kinda impersonal.”

The agent blinked rapidly. “No, actually, it’s Steve. ‘Agent’ is my title. Well, ‘Special Agent’, that is.”

He’d just finished writing when the bartender handed him his drink. Great timing. “FBI? CIA? Homeland Security?” Tony swirled the amber liquid in his glass then took a quick drink, reveling in the Scotch’s slight burn.

“FBI.” There was a sinking feeling in his chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Or the arc reactor, for that matter. Tony shifted his whole body toward the agent, hoping to get a good read on the man. He certainly didn’t expect how well Agent Danvers filled out his comparably drab attire.

“Good Lord, do all feds look that good in a suit?”

“Uh…” Agent Danvers’s gaze turned away suddenly. There was a slight touch of color to his face now, but nothing too obvious. Easily flustered, then. Maybe this guy was going to be more fun than Tony had given him credit for.

“No,” Tony said wistfully. “Probably not. And good thing, too, considering it’d end up being more of a job hazard than anything.”

“Mr. Stark,” Agent Danvers began before sighing. His eyes drifted back and locked with Tony’s, sending a shiver down his spine. What a curious shade of blue. “Look, I know this must be a trying time for you, but you need to be debriefed. There’s a lot of unanswered questions, and time can be a factor with these things.”

Ah, so that’s what this was about. Someone else coming to pry the details of his time in Afghanistan out of him. Suddenly, the conversation was no longer amusing.

"Well, I'm not sorry to tell you that I can't—" A woman walked between them, cutting him off. He stared at her for a short moment, trying to place where he knew her from.

"Wow," she said, turning her back to the agent. "Tony Stark."

"Oh, hey." Convenient interruption. Tony shot Agent Danvers what he knew was an unconvincing look of apology, but he didn't need it to seem sincere.

"Fancy seeing you here." Tony Stark, showing up at Tony Stark's third annual benefit for the Firefighter's Family Fund. On paper, it didn't sound so shocking. She must know him.

"Carrie." Reporter. Brown, right?

"Christine."

"That's right." Tony glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Agent Danvers roll his eyes. Serves him right for trying to do business at a party. Never mind that it was a charity event.

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here tonight. Can I at least get a reaction from you?" Whoa, where had that come from? Did he really piss her off that much the morning after?

"Panic," he said distractedly, wondering what it would take to get both her and Agent Danvers to go away. "I would say panic is my reaction."

"'Cause I was referring to your company's involvement in this latest atrocity."

Tony shrugged and cast his gaze around the room ambivalently. "Yeah. They just put my name on the invitation. I don't know what to tell you." Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to show up here after all. He really wasn't prepared for any line of questioning from nosy FBI agents or misguided reporters.

"I actually almost bought it, hook, line, and sinker."

"I was out of town for a couple months, in case you didn't hear."

“Is this what you call accountability?” Christine removed three photographs from her bag. She handed them to Tony, who took them wearily. A nauseated feeling overcame him as he looked at the ruined remains of a town. There were missiles in the pictures with his name plastered on the sides, and they weren’t cheap knockoffs. Hell, they even had the Jericho which wasn’t supposed to have shipped overseas yet. Somehow, weapons manufactured by his company had ended up in the hands of a militant group in the Middle East.

Memories of the attack surged to the front of his mind. The terror of being shot at. The horror at seeing the young soldiers killed. The numbness that came with seeing his name on the very explosive that left shrapnel in his chest to kill him. But even that wasn’t the worst. At their camp in the mountains, the Ten Rings had crates full of Stark Industries weapons. There was no way that all those products had gone missing or were stolen.

What had Yinsen said? They were his _loyal customers_.

He looked back at Christine with a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue, but she spoke first. “It’s a town called Gulmira. Heard of it?” Yinsen’s hometown. Wasn’t that just the cherry on top.

His nickname “the Merchant of Death” felt more apropos than ever. What good was the goal of stopping weapons production if there already were so many in the wrong hands? If he had known… But Tony hadn’t know. He hadn’t _wanted_ to know. As much as it hurt to admit, this was his own damn fault. “When were these taken?” His voice sounded hoarse in his own ears.

“Yesterday.”

Tony frowned. “I didn’t approve any shipment.” He hadn’t approved any shipments of weapons since he came back.

“Well, your company did.”

“Well, I’m not my company.” Therein lie the problem. And perhaps the solution as well. Tony slipped on the cockiest grin he could manage and turned to Agent Danvers. The poor man had waited there patiently, but Tony didn’t have time to play games with Big Brother.

“Sorry, Agent, but I’ve got to cut this short. I’m a busy man and all. Why don’t you just have your people call my people, yeah?” He paused, giving the agent a heated glance from head to toe. “Or I could fit you in now for some extra-curriculars.”

Oh, yeah, he’s really pushing it. Tony knows, but damn if he cares. Flirting was a really good way to deflect any attention from his emotions. Because what kind of heartless billionaire would he be if word got out that he actually had feelings?

Danvers, of course, gave him a look just a few shades shy of a glare and shook his head. He was probably one of the most patient people on Earth, despite looking so done with Tony’s shit. That wouldn’t be the last of him, Tony thought as he strode toward the door. Unfortunately, his plans for Agent Danvers would have to wait.

As he headed down the front steps of the concert hall, Tony spied Obadiah. The man was still showing off for the cameras, which made Tony wonder how little time had actually spent inside. “Obie,” he called out for attention.

Obadiah turned around. “Tony, what are you doing back out here? Done already?”

“Just avoiding government agents.”

The cameras were flashing wildly as photographers noticed the two of them standing together. Tony scowled, really not in the mood for the paps. His distaste must have been quite obvious because Obadiah wrapped his arm around Tony’s shoulders and pulled him closer. “Please, do you mind,” he said to a reporter and pushed his arm out lightly to gain some space for them.

With some room to breathe, Tony pulled out the photos and showed them to Obadiah. “Have you seen these pictures?” When his business partner didn’t appear phased, Tony’s blood began to boil. “What’s going on in Gulmira?”

“Tony, Tony. You can’t afford to be this naïve.”

“You know what? I was naïve before, when they said “here’s the line. We don’t cross it. This is how we do business.”” There was a rage building in his chest like he hadn’t felt since his father died. His fists were balled at his sides as he prepared himself for a response he didn’t want to hear. “If we’re double-dealing under the table… are we?”

The photographers had returned now and were calling out for his picture. This really wasn’t the time, but Obadiah turned them both for the cameras. “Let’s take a picture. Come on. Picture time!” It was one of the handful of times in his adult life that he couldn’t muster even the ghost of a smile for show. “Tony,” Obadiah whispered to him. “Who do you think locked you out? I was the one who filed the injunction against you. It was the only way I could protect you.”

Protect him from what?

Tony didn’t get the chance to ask before Obadiah walked away. The anger he had felt simmering dissolved into something darker. There was a miasma of devastation and betrayal swirling around in his mind, but the feeling in his gut was much different. It felt a lot like determination, but never before had his resolve been so grim.

This was probably the point in his origin story that people would look back on and say “ _that’s_ where he started down the wrong path”. If ever he had a penchant for supervillainy, the moment Obadiah Stane literally turned his back on him was as good a time as any to act upon it. But the situation called for a greater course of action than punching Stane in the face.

A quick glance at his watch stayed his decision. There were still a good two and a half hours before the Mark II was ready for deployment. Even if it was, would he really rush off across the globe without any kind of plan?

You’re Goddamn right he would. With the suit, he didn’t need a plan. What he needed was to attack.

|-|

Surely, there was some sort of clever anecdote that fit this kind of situation, but Tony was far too busy fuming to think of it. Because, really, how in the hell was his phone dead? Plus his car was still too new to be having problems like breaking down. And yet, there he was; stranded on a stretch of the PCH that was in the middle of nowhere. At midnight. Even if a car were to come by, Tony wasn’t certain that he’d be willing to hitch a ride with whatever beach bum decided to drive down the remote section of Highway 1 at that Godawful hour.

“Fuck.” Tony kicked at his front tire, not caring about scuffing up his Italian leather loafers. “What’s the point in having you if you’re just going to screw me over?” He leaned against the driver’s door and cradled his head in his hands.

It was tempting to scream, even if no one was going to hear him. _Especially_ if no one was going to hear him. He was running calculations in his head of how fair his voice would travel, but there were too many unknown variables. What was the statistical likelihood of a friendly neighborhood cop passing by within the next four hours?

Tony knew it was all pointless. He was unequivocally shit out of luck.

At about fifteen minutes into his predicament, a set of headlights began to draw near. Just when he was starting to think that perhaps fate was going to be kind to him for once, Tony’s cautious optimism was shattered. His blood pounded in his ears as a black SUV pulled up along the shoulder. That couldn’t possibly bode well for him.

As if the universe could hear his narration, the passenger’s side window lowered and a man in a black suit peered over his black aviators to give Tony a hard look. “Get in the car,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. Tony could see the shape of a handgun through his blazer, stopping any remarks he had about wearing sunglasses at night.

Well, this seemed like less and less of a coincidence the more he thought about it. The back door opened, and with few options in front of him, Tony climbed in next to yet another man in a black suit. As soon as he slammed the door shut, they drove off.

In spite of how bad things looked, at least he was still in the US. His odds of a successful escape attempt were infinitely higher than when he was being held in a cave in Afghanistan, and Tony was already forming several plans when he noticed the suit next to him was staring expectantly. Tony looked at him for a moment before clearing his throat. “You know, this is usually where you divulge your evil plot to me.”

The suit gave him a small smile. The lighting was too poor to tell if it was devious or not, but given the circumstances, he was leaning that way. "Believe it or not, we're not the bad guys, Mr. Stark."

"Really now." Was he serious? He _did_ know that Tony couldn't possibly grant him any credibility, right? "In my experience, only the bad guys kidnap people. Which I am really getting tired of. I feel like you lack innovation here. You should probably bring that up at the next Evil Villains Anonymous meeting."

"Your father assisted in the capture of several prominent German scientists during and after World War II. Most people would still say he's a hero."

Tony raised an eyebrow, only habit keeping him from crossing lines of propriety. "Captain America was a hero. Howard was... well, the jury's still out on that one, but my dad's morality is irrelevant here. You just forced me into a car with government plates on – don't think I didn't notice. My tax dollars are clearly hard at work – and now you're trying to psychobabble your way into my head... for what reason, exactly?"

"We may have gotten off on the wrong foot, here."

"Can't imagine why."

It was amazing that the suit kept his face neutral. Almost like he wasn't even tempted to take the bait. Usually, by now, most people were sick of hearing Tony's voice. But not this guy.

"You're a difficult man to get the attention of, you know. We've already attempted reaching out through a variety of avenues and it's gotten us nowhere. I'm sorry it had to go down this way, but you're going to want to hear what I have to say." And why did Tony think this was the beginning of a well-rehearsed speech? Oh, because he had ears of course.

"I'm Agent Phil Coulson of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division, or SHIELD. We're an intelligence agency that's independent of any one government or corporate entity. You won't have heard of us before. Few people have."

Tony looked out the window, watching the countryside pass by. "Men in black. Right. Got it. So what did I do to piss off Big Brother this time?"

The suit, Agent Coulson, shook his head. "I already told you, Mr. Stark. We aren't the government. You're not here because of something you did; you're here because of something you can do for us."

Tony looked back at him as if he'd grown a third eye. "'My country needs me'. That's what you're going with? Well, I guess you missed my press conference, Agent. I'm out of the arms business, and not looking to get back in ever."

"You misunderstand. We don't need your weapons. There's a greater enemy at work here."

"Oh, so just aliens then."

"Not 'just'," Coulson said with a knowing look in his eyes, and Tony couldn't tell if he was serious or not. Really, it could go either way. "SHIELD has reason to suspect that someone high up in the American government is meddling with forces far beyond their paygrade, but haven't got solid evidence. And more importantly, there's no way of knowing just what we're dealing with."

"You know, for as powerful as you imply you are, you SHIELD guys sound way out of your depth."

Coulson gave him a rueful smile. "It's true that we're at a major disadvantage. Being a clandestine operation doesn't allow us as much opportunity as, say, the FBI, or the CIA. But you're in a unique position. Your very name opens doors that most people couldn't get near. And your risk of exposure is minimal, considering you're a well-known public figure. Perhaps you can in where we haven't been able to."

The car hit a particularly large bump in the road, and Tony almost bit his tongue clear off. "Wait, wait, wait. Are you seriously asking me to spy on the US government? Are you insane?"

"That depends on your definition of 'asking'." Tony blinked. That was surprising. Not the threatening, of course, but how blunt Coulson was being about such an obtuse demand. Obviously, he was more than a bit reluctant. Any sane person would be hesitant to agree to spy for an organization they'd never heard of and that was basically holding them hostage. He'd seen this movie before, and it never ended well for the shmuck goaded into betraying his country.

Oddly enough, it wasn't the prospect of being caught that really stuck with him. Rather, he just didn't want fuck-all to do with whatever was going on behind the curtains. Who cared if the Wizard was just a man? He wasn't a lost girl from Kansas with a dog and a motley crew of singing allegories. He was Tony Goddamn Stark, and he had better things to do than be the pawn of these SHIELD guys.

"I'll be honest, I did not expect a kidnapping to go this way. Putting aside the ridiculous notions of espionage and treason for a moment: why should I do anything for you? You haven't really given me reasons beyond defeating the forces of darkness slash aliens, and in case you hadn't noticed, I'm not the type to Keanu Reeves things."

Coulson looked like he was thinking for a moment. "At your press conference, you said you were stopping weapons production because you'd seen American soldiers killed using your technology. It's commendable that you'd try to rectify your mistakes, even this late in the game. But surely you're not naïve enough to think that the Ten Rings are the only criminals that your company dealt with."

"How did you–"

"It's our job to know. I should be insulted that you think we wouldn't." Coulson raised an eyebrow in his direction, and for one, short, panicked moment, Tony wondered if he knew about the suit. But there was no way he could know. The only people who had seen it were Tony himself, Yinsen, and the Ten Rings, and Tony was the only one still alive. He was worried over nothing.

"Alright. Say that's true. Why haven't we been shut down? It's not like the government can't know."

"That's the problem. The DOD, the DOJ, the CIA... they all look the other way. Certainly doesn't sound like they're acting in anyone's best interest but that of Stark Industries and of their own. And if they have been compromised, I don't have to tell you the threat that poses."

Oh, Tony could imagine, alright. "So what do you propose I do about it? The Board locked me out. Even if I wanted to hunt down the bastards on all sides, I couldn't."

The man's expression didn't change, and Tony wondered if he would really take "no" for an answer. It was all very likely that his refusal could mean they'd find his body on the side of the road somewhere with no clue what happened.

The car came to a complete stop, and Tony could hear the blood pounding in his ears. This was it, then. He looked out the window, wondering what his last view would be of and saw... his house? Not at all what he was expecting.

"I'm sure you can figure something out. The future may very well depend on it."

Right now, the only future Tony was concerned with was his own.

"You'll be hearing from us again soon, Mr. Stark," Coulson said with no inflection, leaving him to wonder if he was safe or not.

Tony shook his head and opened the door, but neither the agent nor the driver took any move to stop him. He didn't think twice, and he certainly didn't consider any farewells. All Tony wanted to do was get the hell out of dodge and as far away from these memories as possible.

Just as he walked away, the driver called out to him. Tony turned slowly, trying to think of what else there was.

"Your car'll be here by morning." He took off his shades in order to stare down Tony with a cold gaze. "I don't think I need to tell you not to mention this to anyone." That certainly confirmed his suspicions about sabotage. At least that saved him the trouble of calling AAA.

"Nope. That's fine. I get it clear as day. Mum's the word."

A hint of a smile appeared at the corner of the guy's mouth and eyebrows twitched slightly. It was either amusement or a threat. Or both. It could definitely be both. The driver gave a terse nod before driving off, and Tony released a heavy breath.

Well, then. There were a lot of words that could be said about what had just happened, but he wasn't any kind of poet. Besides, he had work to do.

Tony headed right for his lab, throwing out any notions of sleep. It was going to be a long night, he knew, but he’d had plenty of those in his lifetime. “Jarvis,” he called out as he hurried down the stairs. “Run diagnostic scans on all the vehicles and analyze their security protocols.”

“I do believe you mean the lack thereof, sir?”

Tony didn’t pause as he entered the workshop. “Exactly, J. Oh, and set communications to “do not disturb”. I don’t want interruptions for anything short of “end of the world”, you hear me?”

“Your preferences have been duly noted. In addition, the Mark II has completed rendering and is awaiting calibration.” That brought a small smile to his face.

“Got it. Thanks,” Tony said, but his mind was already onto the next task. He fished his phone out of his pocket and examined in briefly. Still dead. Likely another SHIELD casualty somehow. Tony plugged his phone in to charge and turned to his workspace. There were just a few more details that he needed to work out on the suit, and it would be good to do some work with his hands.

The images of Gulmira were still fresh in his mind. Just thinking about them made him want to destroy something, which wasn’t very productive in his lab. And just who the hell did Agent Coulson think he was? Tony Stark: a spy. What kind of fucked up Nic Cage movie was he writing?

He turned on the news to droll on in the background, very much not in the mood for music. With suit gauntlet on his right arm, he sat his ass down on the couch and twisted a screwdriver to the beat of the cogs ticking in his mind. Though he didn’t catch everything that was said, it was enough to sicken him.

_“…referred to by the locals as the Ten Rings.”_

At that, Tony looked up at the screen. The man they were showing was definitely someone he recognized. Even with his face disfigured, it was hard to forget the face of the guy who held him captive for two months. He swallowed hard and stood up. He flexed his fingers absently as he tossed the screwdriver God knew where. He lifted his arm, power surging to the palm of his hand, and just barely resisted blowing everything up. As it was, the fluorescent lights took a hit. Yet it still wasn’t nearly enough.

_“… only wonder who, if anyone, will help_.”

Resistance was indeed futile. He fired once, twice, three times. Why did that bastard get to live while Yinsen died? And now, there was no one willing to stop him. Tony thought bitterly that Agent Coulson was right on the nose. The US government probably was compromised. It wouldn’t surprise him, what with the world being as screwed up as it was. Not that he was really one to talk.

The haze of his mind cleared, and Tony took a brief glance around the room. Well, fuck. There went the glass walls. He should probably get that cleaned up, but his mind was dead-set on something else. It was clear what he had to do.

He had to save Gulmira. He had to stop the Ten Rings, destroy all of his weapons, and take back the company. Not because some agent in a suit had told him to, but because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he just stood by and did nothing.

And those were the lines that Tony kept repeating in his head, even as the Pacific Ocean rolled on far beneath him. It was time for him to step up and be a goddamn hero because no one else was going to get off their asses and do it. What was the world coming to when Tony Stark had the moral high ground?

He had thought up a witty comeback to that, but it slipped out of his mind when the icon he’d been ignoring in the right-hand corner turned red. There was no way this was going to be anything good. The annoyed huff he heard when the line connected just confirmed that.

“Pepper, darling, light of my life, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Let’s not pretend I’m calling you at three in the morning for anything other than business, Tony.” Right off the bat, a pissed Pepper Potts was a bad omen.

“Ouch, darling, watch the teeth.”

“ _God_ do I hope you’re talking to me.” It was unfortunate that Tony’s salacious grin was wasted. Maybe putting in video calling would be worthwhile. “Look, the FBI is looking into launching a formal investigation into you.”

It was a damn good thing that he had put the suit on autopilot, or else he might have fallen out of the sky. “Excuse me, Pep, I must have had a mild stroke or something, because what you just said made absolutely no sense.” He took a deep breath, looking longingly as he passed the beaches of Maui. “The FBI is looking into me. What the hell for? Is being kidnapped a felony now?”

“Have you seen the news recently? There’s a militia group in the Middle East that destroyed an entire town. Gulmira. And they were seen using your weapons. Tony, this looks really bad.”

“They think I’m consorting with a terrorist organization. Great. They seriously better not put me on the no-fly list for this shit, because there’s no way off that.”

“You own a private jet.”

“It’s the principle of the matter.” Tony grit his teeth as his mind cottoned on fully to the situation. The government thought he was a terrorist, or at least working with terrorists. The same government that had likely known about the sordid affairs of Stark Industries for _years_. What were the odds that this wasn’t a witch-hunt? Hell, even if it was, no one was going to believe him. This was the product of a conspiracy theorist’s wet dreams.

And as much as he wanted – _needed_ – to do something, flying off to the Middle East with a half-assed plan to disarm the Ten Rings seemed like a spectacularly horrible idea now, even for his standards. That certainly hurt to admit.

But it didn’t hurt nearly as much as the thought of inaction.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Pepper,” he said, decision firm in his mind. “The FBI’s not gonna find anything, and they’ll eventually move on.”

“You sure about that?”

The statement gave him pause. “Do you really think so little of me that I might do something like this?”

“No. You’re reckless, Tony, and an ass, but you’re not a criminal. I can’t say the same for everyone at your company, though.” Oh, that was becoming quite apparent. But so long as nothing led back to him, Tony could still salvage things. He wasn’t going to let his legacy be tarnished any more than it already had been.

First things first, he had to solve a little problem in Gulmira.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony receives a visitor. Or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I guess I underestimated the power of positive feedback? Thank you all very much! And do I respond to comments? I'm not sure what's normal around here.
> 
> Forgot to add that eventually this will go past the events of _Iron Man_. You will see the person Steve mentions in a few chapters, I promise (and it's one of my favourite scenes to be honest). Enjoy!

Through all the philosophical papers he may have read throughout his rarely-sober undergrad years, Tony had never found a reason for time to pass differently. Maybe Hawking had a mathematical solution, but that couldn’t help _him_ work so efficiently that he could afford to sleep. And now, two weeks schlepping his ass back from Gulmira, Tony was still no closer to making another move.

Not only were the frustration and sleep deprivation weighing him down, but the lack of a consistent eating schedule was likely wearing on him more than he’d acknowledge. Sleep and temperance were for the weak, but food was something he really should know better than to go without.

Pepper was rightfully worried about him. She probably thought he wasn’t taking news of the investigation well, and she wasn’t wrong. The Feds were trying their damnedest to sully his public figure, and though he liked to think of himself as the king of debauchery, he preferred to be thought of as a megalomaniac rather than a sociopath. Luckily it was an election year, so news of the possible indictment of one Tony Stark took a backseat to political rhetoric. Not even Jon Stewart seemed to care much when the other option was pointing out successful pandering from the Ellison-Saxon ticket.

It was a lot more than that. With the Mark III on an indefinite hiatus and the company well out of his hands, the only thing that Tony had been able to work on was research, research, research. And when that had gotten him nowhere (not that he expected it to), he tried and failed to tinker with mundane tasks like his cars. Even though his hands were itching to start a new project, he didn’t have the bandwidth to do it. Tony was putting everything he had into his plans. Or lack of plans.

So far, he’d tracked down at least 10 distinct clusters of Stark brand weapons on 4 separate continents. The people who possessed them had almost nothing in common; they ranged from street gangs in Bangkok to a large-scale Bratva operation in Sevastopol. Some faction of the Taliban had even gotten their hands on his tech. What he wouldn’t give hop in the suit and just start firing at them.

But that wouldn’t solve the bigger issue, and it was _way_ too risky. He’d rather avoid another incident with the military, foreign or otherwise. Rhodey knew at least a little bit now and might be of some help in fending off the DOD in the long run, but he couldn’t count on it. He wasn’t going to ask one of his oldest and (let’s face it) only friends to lie to his superior officers.

Finally having Pepper know made him feel a little better, too. He’d always come to regret keeping secrets from her, if only because she always found out. There weren’t many times that he’d kept something big from her, and he wasn’t soon going to forget a single one. In fact, if he tried, he could almost recall her scolding tones with perfect pitch…

Wait. No. His auditory memory had never been that good.

_“Tony… Tony! You need to drop whatever it is you’re doing and get up here.”_

Tony opened his eyes. When had he fallen asleep? Although, that didn’t really matter since he’d stopped keeping track of time a while back.

“I’m up, Pep. Where’s the fire?” He yawned, running a hand through his greasy hair. God, now that he thought about it, he did feel really disgusting. A shower should definitely be in order at some point. When he got around to it.

 _“Don’t tell me you were just sleeping.”_ Tony looked to his left and saw that he’d somehow answered his phone while still asleep. Which meant that Pepper wasn’t in the same room and totally couldn’t tell if he lied.

“No, of course I wasn’t sleeping. I was just, uh…” His neurons weren’t firing quickly enough without the wonderful elixir that was coffee. He couldn’t even think of an extravagant excuse at the moment, and that was more than enough proof for Pepper.

_“I’ll make sure to talk to you later about the merits of healthy sleeping habits. But right now, you really need to be upstairs. There’s an FBI agent at the door who wants to talk with out.”_

That started him out of whatever he wasn’t doing. “We talking Mulder or Scully?”

Pepper hummed through the line. _“I’d definitely say more Angel than anything. Says his name is Danvers.”_ Of course it was. Because life couldn’t give him a break for one second and send him someone who wasn’t ridiculously good looking.

“Stall him.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

This was _so_ not good. Like so not good that Tony’s brain really needed to wake up and get back to geniusing.

Right! Shower.

Tony bolted out of his chair, pausing for a moment to hate his body at the first sign of a back spasm. ‘ _Late nights were a lot more fun back in college’_ , he thought as he stepped over the mess on the floor that he probably shouldn’t have just left there. Hangovers were a bitch, but backaches couldn’t go away with a little hair of the dog. He kept his steps light and swift so that when he reached the main floor, he was able to pass behind Danvers’s back without a sound. Pepper caught his eye just before he dashed off, and he mouthed a frantic “thank you” to her. She looked back at Danvers and picked up their conversation without missing beat, but Tony could see the small smile on her face now.

The door closed behind him with a loud thud, and Tony ought to have cared more, but he was far too busy angling his socks off and trying to maintain his balance. “Jarvis,” he called out as he flung his shirt to god-knew where. “Boot the shower up. Five minutes max.” He had to brace his hand on the wall so he wouldn’t trip over his own feet in the flurry, but pushing off it gave him the momentum to slide right into the open-air shower that Pepper had mocked him for installing.

The water cut off just as the last of the suds emptied down the drain. On an ordinary day, he’d make sure that he was completely dry before dressing. This day, he didn’t pay that much attention as he threw on whatever he grabbed first and ran his fingers through his now grease-free hair. He was on a very tight timetable after all, and if he wasn’t making a public appearance, then it really didn’t matter too much how he looked. It would have been horribly imprudent of him not to trim his scruff, and thank God for electric razors or else it’d have taken forever to get his trademark goatee in order.

A bead of water ran down the back of his neck as he stepped into the room unannounced. He ignored it, instead opting to size-up his guest. There, looking very relaxed and not at all like the stiff from the gala, was the ravishing Agent Danvers. He sat a good length away from the every-lovely Pepper Potts, taking up enough of the spacious couch that it had Tony wondering if he knew he was a Great Dane, not a Chihuahua. They appeared to be having a pleasant conversation about… art? Really? Of all things.

“You know, I seem to recall that the word of the day was “Tony”, not “Monet”.” Their heads turned toward him at last. “Although, if the two of you would rather talk impressionism, don’t let me stop you. I’ll just leave you alone and we can it a day. Forget about this whole “federal investigation” business. Sounds good to me.”

“I’m afraid not,” Danvers said as he stood up. “As much as I’d enjoy that, my super’d have my ass if she heard that I’d turned down an opportunity to ask you a few questions.”

 _‘And it would be a real shame to lose that ass’_. That was something Tony could clearly see now that the agent was wearing a _much_ better fitted suit. “Interesting that you’d call showing up at my door “an opportunity”. As flattered as I am that you’re stalking me, I have to wonder if you don’t have some ulterior motive.”

“All I want is to make sure that this whole process goes as smooth as can be.” There was such an earnest look about Danvers, like he couldn’t imagine doing anything nefarious. “And trust me when I say that I’d be more than happy to have this over with as soon as possible. It’s nothing personal.”

Tony frowned. “Really? ‘Cause you dropping by my house unannounced? Yeah, that feels kinda personal.”

“I’m not here to play games,” Danvers calmly replied. Damn him for not rising to that. “I just want to get through this interview as soon as possible. I’m sure you could talk circles around me, but I’ve got more important things to do. No offense.”  
“It’s gonna take a lot more than that to offend me, Agent. I mean, have you even ready half of what’s been written about me?” Tony definitely knew how difficult it could be working with him, or even just being around him. There was a long line of people willing to attest to that. “Although, I am a little insulted that you think I’m up to no good. If there was a big conspiracy thing going on, I sure as hell wouldn’t be the one behind it. Subtlety’s not really my thing.” Later, Pepper would remind him of what he just said, but not as vindictively as an “I told you so” should be.

“Mr. Stark, I don’t think anything. I just go where they send me. I am glad that you agreed to talk this time, though.” Danvers held his hand out, and Tony ignored the instinct to flinch. Normally, he found physical contact with a stranger outside of sex disconcerting. Normally, this didn’t bother him; it was one of the many facets of his type-A personality. Now? Now Tony’s hand was moving on its own volition.

He grasped Danvers’s hand firmly, the brush of their palms sending a delightful shiver down his spine. A pulse of arousal curled deep in Tony’s gut and he wet his lips in desire. His will was strong enough to not let slip an indecent moan, but he was tempted to show his interest in a more obscene manner.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d found a man attractive _and_ been attracted to him, which was a real tragedy for all that he was a diverse lover. The circumstances weren’t ideal, but hell if that was going to stop him.

“Call me Tony,” he said, keeping his voice thick and low. “”Mr. Stark”’s a little formal for my home.” In truth, Tony was dying to hear what his name sounded like coming from Danvers.

“Well, Tony, let’s get started, then.” Danvers motioned back to the couch, seemingly oblivious to the effect he was having on Tony. It was slightly disappointing, but he wasn’t ready to call it quits just yet. They sat facing each other, with Pepper attentively perched on his right.

Pepper leaned in close. “Next time,” she whispered. “Wear something more appropriate.” Where the hell had that come from? It wasn’t like he’d thrown on assless leather chaps. Tony chanced a cursory glance at himself.

 _Son of a bitch._ The arc reactor was glowing right through his shirt. Even though there was no possible way for Danvers to know what it was, the thought of his secret being visible was still sickening. No time to go change, though, so he’d just have to hope that the subtle blue ring went unnoticed.

Danvers cleared his throat and took out pen and paper. Tony thought it was adorable that he was the kind of person to lick the tip of his pen before he started writing. “Tell me what you know about the Ten Rings.”

“You mean beyond that they kidnapped me.” Danvers nodded for him to continue. Tony pursed his lips tightly, fingertips bouncing on his knee. This wasn’t going to be fun. “Right, well, can’t say I know all that much. They’re a militia group operating in Afghanistan. Their motive is beyond me, but smart money’s on the usual wealth and power bit. MO is terrorizing locals, destroying towns, etc., but they haven’t shown themselves interested in anything but domestic skirmishes.”

“But that’s nothing someone from the military couldn’t have told you,” Pepper said defiantly, shooting Danvers an annoyed glare. She’d always have his back. Definitely deserved a raise. And a better employer.

Danvers looked up from his erratic scrawling unperturbed. “Is that everything?” It was clear that he wasn’t fully buying it just yet.

“Pretty much,” Tony said with exasperation. What was it going to take to end this? “There wasn’t a great chance for reconnaissance in between the threatening and the torturing. Guess they were effective captors in that sense.”

“Torture?” Pepper looked at him in wide-eyed horror, her hand raised to her mouth in a silent gasp. He’d forgotten that he hadn’t told anyone that. There were a lot of things that he hadn’t mentioned about Afghanistan, but he thought he’d made it pretty clear that he’d been made to work under duress.

Tony glanced back at Danvers, but the man appeared at a loss for words. His mouth flopped open a few times before he caught back on to a train of though. “I… I truly am sorry about that, Tony. No one deserves to be treated like that, least of all an innocent civilian.”

The sentiment was sincere, but completely ridiculous. Tony snorted in derision, his head falling slightly on the back of the couch. “I wouldn’t exactly call myself innocent. I’ve spent most of my life building death machines; the amount of blood on my hands must be staggering.” A well-manicured hand landed on his thigh. Pepper was watching him. She was probably trying find an opening to comfort him. And yeah, it probably would have been good to let her, he knew, but Tony couldn’t even look her in the eye right then.

He righted his head and saw Danvers smiling sadly at him. “Why do I get the feeling that arguing will get me nowhere?” Tony shrugged, not really in the mood to fight either. The agent’s pity was neither wanted nor needed, but Tony wasn’t worked up enough to lash out at him for trying.

Danvers took a deep breath, appearing to steel himself for something he was about to say. As the air blew out, however, a calm air overtook him and he shook his head. He turned his head away, suddenly seeming very interested in the roll of the ocean. “So,” he breathed, softly enough that Tony’s ears had to strain to follow. “What’s it like living in Southern California?”

“Pardon?” Pepper asked, taken a back at the abrupt topic change. The mood of the room shifted, and Tony stared curiously at Danvers for having caused it.

“Sorry. It’s just, I only moved here from the East coast about month ago. Haven’t had much time for anything but work and unpacking, but I’d like to get to know the area.”

Well, that certainly piqued Tony’s interest. Maybe he’d offer to show Danvers around. “Oh, you know,” he said in a droll tone. “Sunshine. Beaches. Everyone’s got a tan for the most part, and the Mexican food is amazing if you don’t mind cilantro. Where’re you from?”

Danvers’s eyes took on a delighted shine. “I’m from Brooklyn,” he said with a hint of an accent coming out.

“Ah. Brooklyn guy.” _Old blood, or new?_ “Kinda sorry you’ve ditched the accent. Usually gives me the urge to join a drunken brawl, but I think with you, it’d give me other urges.” He could just _feel_ Pepper rolling her eyes at him.

In a poor attempt to conceal a smile, Agent Danvers looked at his feet. And was that a blush? Well, now. Never let it be said that their conversation was boring.

“I just hope my son doesn’t get too used to the sun while we’re out here.” Tony’s thoughts came to an immediate halt. He could feel the grin slip from his face.

“Your son?” Dammit. Of course Danvers wasn’t single. When you looked like he did, it was hard to not want to be with him. Hell, Tony wasn’t entirely sure that having a family deterred him.

“My nephew, really. I just call him that to spare a long explanation.” Curious. Perhaps he wasn’t taken after all. Lack of a ring was a good sign. What were the chances of him getting lucky if he propositioned Danvers?

Pepper was giving him a hard look now. When Tony met her gaze, she hit him on the thigh just out of sight of their guest. Dammit, she _always_ knew what he was thinking. He cleared his throat. “How old?” There was a part of Tony that actually cared. It was just small in comparison to the part of him that the public gossiped about.

“Eight. I’ve had him less than nine months, though, and there’s been a pretty steep learning curve.”

“I’ll bet. I can’t imagine how I’d deal with suddenly having a kid in my care.” And wouldn’t the tabloids _love_ a story like that? He could see it now: _“Notorious Playboy Tony Stark Receives Custody of Secret Love Child”._

“Don’t jinx yourself, Tony,” Pepper said dryly. “You remember how you were in the late ‘90s.”

“In that I don’t remember? Yes, I’d nearly forgotten that I’d spent a few years drunk off my ass and doing God knows what else.” Danvers’s face turned sour. It figures that a guy like him would disapprove of past Tony’s idea of fun. He needed to get off his high horse, because that was almost a decade ago, _thank you very much_.

“It’s surprising that you’ve completely dropped that lifestyle lately.”  
Tony shrugged. “Yeah, well, a near death experience will do that to ya.”

“So what have you been doing with your time, then? Not out partying, not engaging in philandering _or_ philanthropy. And you haven’t been involved with Stark Industries, either.”

“I hope you’re not trying to imply that I run around coming up with new ways to break the law. I didn’t get to where I am through criminal means, and I’m not about to start now.” Except that he kind of was. Oops.

Danvers looked like he wanted to sigh or roll his eyes, but to his credit, he did neither. “That’s not what I meant. But if you don’t want your name run through the mud, you could try to be a little more forthcoming. It’ll only make things worse if you keep things vague.” That definitely wasn’t going to happen. There wasn’t much of anything that he could divulge that wouldn’t make things worse. The suit? Weapon. The research? Gonna blow shit up. Cloak-and-dagger guys in suits fucking with him? Probably would be better if they thought he was going crazy.

Tony looked at Pepper out the corner of his eye, hoping for some backup. He was confident that she had some legalese bullshit hidden up her sleeve just for occasions like this.

“He’s right.” Okay so _not_ what he wanted to hear. “You might as well show him what you’ve been working on.” Uh, what? She wasn’t really suggesting that he dust off the _Mark III_ for a demonstration, was she?

“It’s not like you’ve got anything to hide,” Pepper said as she looked Tony right in the eye. “It’d be a lot less painful to take him down to your lab now rather than wait until he comes back with a search warrant.” Well, that was true. That really did make a lot of sense, but it didn’t mean that he had to like it. He and common sense were often disagreeing.

“Fine,” he bit out at last after much deliberation. “I’ll show you my workshop. But I gotta clean up some glass first so you don’t step on any of it.”

Pepper frowned. “Not the windows that you broke.” His sudden aversion to eye contact spoke for him. “That was two weeks ago, Tony! You could have at least have one of the bots clean up.” Tony gave a noncommittal groan as he stood up, flexing his back.

“Bots?” When he turned around, Danvers was sitting on the edge of his seat, looking more like the child he said he was raising that he man he truly was. “As in robots?”

“Uh, yeah. My bots: You, Dummy, Butterfingers.” Tony wished they were slightly more impressive. It wasn’t that they were disappointing. On the contrary; they’d even gotten praise from his dad which had happened all of about four times in Tony’s life. But that was a long time ago, and with the technology of today, Howard wouldn’t have batted an eye at his creations.

“You built them?”

“When I was 17.” He was definitely feeling more than a little uncomfortable at that point. The letdown look Danvers would likely get when he saw them wasn’t something Tony was looking forward to. “But I should go clean. And whatever.” _“And whatever”_? Really? He decided to get out of dodge before any more ineloquent shit spewed out his mouth.

There was no frantic race down the stairs. It was far less that, and more of a leisurely stroll. He couldn’t let on to Danvers that he was dreading showing the man around, now could he? So long as he didn’t panic and made sure there was nothing incriminating lying around, he’d be fine. He knew that. But that didn’t make him feel in the least bit better.

At that moment, he was very grateful that he’d decided to put the Mark III in storage. Tony couldn’t even think of an excuse to keep Danvers out of his workshop long enough to move the damn thing around, much less find an inconspicuous place to hide it. All his research was digital, and there was absolutely no evidence of him having been contacted by SHIELD. There were probably only a few schematics that he’d have to shuffle away if he wanted to save himself a headache.

Surprisingly enough, he’d left the place in a pretty showable state. Aside from the coffee mugs and piles of sundry things, it was spotless. Certainly not what he would have bet on after having spent two weeks holed up down there.

“The hell is this,” he called out. “Guys been sleeping, or what?” The faintly interested trill wasn’t the most enthusiastic response. “Really, I don’t know what I was thinking when I designed you. Must’ve been drunk for half the programming. Butterfingers, man the floor. You, you’re on desk clearing duty.” Tony turned and saw his bots start to work. Everything was going well except—

“Ah, ah, ah! No! Not you, Dummy!” Damn thing was already trying to help as well, but how was he expecting to clean with a power tool? “Stay! I still haven’t forgotten about the fire extinguisher.” Dummy’s low tones sounded eerily close to disappointment, as if he was aware he’d been chastised.

“Come on, gotta get this—“ out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw something that didn’t belong. Heart palpitations thundered in his ears as his heart beat far faster than was safe at his age. There certainly was something incriminating down here, and it was standing right by his car collection.

He wasn’t alone anymore.

Words hadn’t been invented yet that describe his level of freak out. Somehow, some _one_ had breached his sanctuary; entered his home, crept inside his private lab. It was arguably one of the most secure places on the planet, and with Jarvis monitoring everything, he’d considered his fortress to be impregnable. The AI program had been silent for an unknown amount of time, though. His servers were located in upstate New York and likely safe.

But if Jarvis hadn’t detected an intruder, then the house was offline from the network. Or someone had disabled the surveillance, but that would corrupting some complex lines of code, and there were very few people in the world who could do that.

Tony took two steps toward the figure, analyzing his options. Worse came to worse, Agent Danvers was likely armed. So, really, the only bad move he could make would be ignoring them.

“I think you’ve got the wrong place, buddy,” he called out before the figure spun around. Pale eyes practically glowed at him in a way that couldn’t possibly be natural.

“Nice of you notice me, Stark,” the man said, walking forward. Tony took in the plain dark hoodie and scuffed sneakers, but he couldn’t make sense of them. His gaze trailed over the man’s face for a wild moment before the pieces came together at last. Sans douche-y aviators, it was hard to recognize him, but there was no mistake: this was the driver who’d kidnapped him. Which meant he was SHIELD, and that could not bode well for Tony.

“You can’t be here.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Why’s that?”

Tony screwed his eye shut and shook his head. “Effin’ a’,” he muttered not loud enough to be heard. “I have a spy from a secret organization in my basement and an FBI agent in my living room. How the fuck is this even my life?” Sighing, Tony gave the man a flat look. “You really need to leave like right the hell now. Come back later, I don’t care. Now’s not a good time.”

“I think I’ll decline.” He _actually_ declined to leave, like Tony had asked him, which he very much didn’t.

“Look— um… whatever your name is—“

“Hawkeye,” the man said with a devilish smile that wasn’t the least bit disconcerting. The fuck kind of name is that?

“Okay, uh, Hawkeye. Can you just tell me whatever it is you need and fly off back to your nest?” Truthfully, he was far more curious about how he’d gotten in, but that wasn’t the most pressing issue.

Hawkeye did not appear amused at his poor attempt of a joke. “Boss wanted me to check in.”

“You mean Coulson? Coulson wanted you to look in on me.”

There was no response.

Not a confirmation, nor a denial. Because if the idea of being looking in on like a child wasn’t irritating enough, then surely sending this asshole would be enough to make Tony want to throw something. He didn’t have time for this shit, and he wasn’t in the mood for games. And if his anger happened to conceal the fact that he hadn’t made any progress so far, well. It’s not like he would have up and admitted it anyway.

Tony sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. If the fright didn’t kill him, then the stress was surely going to give him a stroke. “Just tell your boyfriend to back off for a little while longer. I don’t want to rush it.”

“I’m not gay,” Hawkeye said suddenly and confusingly and, Tony thought, petulantly. Because that was relevant.

“I honestly don’t care which way you swing, but I can’t let this FBI agent see you down here. I’d rather avoid getting arrested today. I’m obviously way too pretty for prison to agree with me.”

With a snort, Hawkeye shook his head, his derision clearly showing. “And why would you be arrested?”

“I don’t know you. You could be an international fugitive for all I know. And when this guy asks who the strange person is in my basement, what do you expect me to say? “Oh, don’t worry. It’s just your friendly neighborhood spy”.” Tony’s tirade didn’t appear to impress him one bit. “And he’s not gonna buy that you’re here because you’re sleeping with me.”

“Like I said, I’m not gay.”

“And like _I_ said, just get the hell out of my house!” Holy Fucking Hell. What was with this guy? Could he be a bigger dick?

“Tony?” Pepper called out from the top of the stairs, almost stopping his heart completely. “Everything good?” Tony tore his eyes away to check on his bots. Oh, his good little children had tidied it all up when he wasn’t looking. Even better, none of them had created an even _bigger_ mess. What a nice surprise.

“Yeah, I’m coming!” For once, he didn’t think about the sexual innuendo of his words.

Okay, maybe only for a little bit, but he couldn’t help himself. When your mind perpetually ran at the speed of sound, it was hard not to follow a thought to its logical conclusion.

Seeing Danvers at the top of the stairs was a bit of the shock, as the panic had erased any inklings of arousal. Instead of a very sexy FBI agent, all Tony saw was _Steve_. Oh, fuck. He was passing the objectification stage already. He had to end this schoolboy crush thing yesterday. Especially when his hopes of a quick romp in the sheets were quickly becoming obsolete and unobtainable.

“Hey,” he said, banishing his foolish ideas of making a move. Even if Pepper wasn’t there, it would have been a monumentally bad idea.

“Hey, yourself,” Danvers replied with a small smile. “For a minute there, I thought you’d run out the back door.”

“Nope. Still here. Just getting everything ready for ya. So, you ready to see the future?” Tony grinned, not at all upset to have a chance to show off.

Danvers nodded. “Lead the way, Doctor Who.”

Both Tony and Pepper laughed, her light chuckle a contrast to his sharp bark. “I couldn’t think of a more appropriate show,” she said softly. “Tony loves it so much, I’m surprised he hasn’t built himself a real-life TARDIS yet.”

“ _It is not for a lack of trying on sir’s part, Miss Potts._ ” Jarvis’s return brought a scowl to Tony’s face. Oh, so _now_ he was working. Where was he five minutes ago when Tony needed him? Why hadn’t he been able to alert Tony to Hawkeye’s presence?

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Tony said over Danvers’s barely audible gasp. So easily excited.

“That’s not human, is it?” Tony looked back and realized that he was down a follower. Pepper entered the lab without pause, but Danvers still stood a little ways up the stairs, his neck craned toward the ceiling.

“Based off one, but no. That’s Jarvis. He’s my butler who also happens to be an AI program in this lifetime.”

“I thought we were still a few years off from developing artificial intelligence,” Danvers said as he walked right up to Tony.

“Most of the world is, yeah. But because I’m – well, _me_ – Jarvis is decades ahead anything else available. He is definitely smarter than a 5 th grader, and does pretty damn well on the Turing test, if I do say so myself.”

Danvers caught his gaze, a funny glimmer in his eyes. “So, you really are a genius.” He gave Tony a smile that bred fuzzies in his stomach and other warm and disgustingly cute descriptions like that. What the actual fuck.

“I know,” Tony said quickly. Even though the bubbly feeling wasn’t at all unpleasant, it was probably better to save himself the embarrassment of being caught staring into Danvers’s eyes for too long.

“And modest, too.” Great. Handsome, charming, witty, wonderful. The guy had no flaws, and _God_ it was so annoying in a good way. If they’d met seven months earlier, Tony so would have said “fuck it” and kissed him by now. But he had basically zero faith in humans at that point. There was no way he was going to let himself be vulnerable, even for a second.

He had to wonder what he’d done to deserve this shit. Yeah, there was the laundry list of character defects, but where was his chance at redemption? Did he just go straight to punishment, not passing go, not collecting good karma? _‘Dear science gods, please, please, Hawkeye be gone_ ’, Tony thought in a mantra. If only to give him one good thing.

“What the hell is this?”

There went that idea.

And now, Pepper had found his hide-away spy.

Really, this could only be recompense for something terrible he did in the ‘90s.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, he wondered why he bothered getting worked up about the average people anymore. Not when he had annoying asshats breathing down his neck that could use a lot more Tony-time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I had the time to write and edit this while on vacation. Really, I don't. ~~Let's play spot the references!~~
> 
> Rating changed to Explicit because reasons.  
> Enjoy

With a painful swallow around the lump in his throat, Tony pushed down his nerves and stepped into his lab. Come what come may, he was ready to face the over-dramatic music and lie his way out of this clusterfuck. 

No, this shady-looking character needn't make you worry, Pepper. A plausible excuse may not be at the ready for her and the agent figuratively and literally on his back, but denial was the lingua franca of businessmen and government suits alike.

Only when Pepper finally came into view, she wasn't engrossed in quite the sort of scene he was expecting. Despite her small stature, Pepper loomed over his desk with her arms crossed, looking far more intimidating than someone of her size ought to. Her eyes were wide with incredulity, but from the slight quirk of her mouth, Tony knew she was more amused than anything.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen this much bare space on your desk before." That's what the holler was about? Oh thank you Jesus God! Lo and behold, there was no sign his lab had ever been breeched. All traces of Hawkeye erased, and all reason to worry vanished. Dummy whorled almost happily at Pepper's side, but Tony was too relieved to chide the bot for not staying in the corner like the redheaded stepchild he was.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Pep," Tony said as he sauntered in. He knew without turning around that Danvers followed him like a lost puppy, and dammit if he didn't want to keep him. "I keep my desk flawlessly clean."

Pepper raised an eyebrow at him, with the other rising as she peered behind him. "That's because _I_ make sure it's clean, Tony. Otherwise you'd have a giant petri dish instead of a usable workspace." He gave a half-shrug in response because she was probably right. That was usually how that worked.

A loud whistle cut him off from whatever he was about to say. Tony turned and saw Danvers looking around his shop with slack-jawed awe. "Color me impressed. I had no idea you had this heavy a rig in your own home." His gaze stopped at Dummy, and he blinked furiously as the bot surged toward him.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" Tony leveled Dummy with his gaze, and he came to a stop a foot away from where they stood. Dummy's arm drooped low and he let loose a low trill. "Oh, don't give me that look. You know not to bum-rush the plebes. I raised you better than that." He turned to look at Danvers and shook his head. "He's worse than his brothers. I don't know how that happened since they all have the same programming."

The man smiled at him, not looking the least bit unruffled. "Don't know why everyone's so intent on you making weapons. Not when you've got so much more to offer."

Tony's tongue turned to ash as his lips moved soundlessly in search of words. This man didn't know him, didn't know what made him tick or the thoughts that kept him up at night, yet somehow he'd echoed the very same thoughts Tony himself had been mulling over. To Danvers, the words almost meaningless. 

At least, Tony could have convinced himself that was true if it wasn't for the reverent shine in his eyes. There was honest belief in those baby blues, and that was just too much. "Guess most don't figure guys like me as the altruistic type."

"Guys like you?"

"A bastard-coated bastard with bastard filling. Come on, Agent. Keep up!"

There. That moment was successfully ruined. Danvers's face closed off in an instant, and Pepper looked like she wanted to give him what for. It was true that he felt a quiet murmuring of guilt in his mind, but it was small in comparison to the waves of panic and relief. 

Emotions were hard and messy to deal with, not unlike statements to the press, but he couldn't just pass them along for someone else to deal with.

He reached up his hand to rub at the still-pink webbing of scars around the arc reactor before he caught himself and stilled. That was a nervous tick he'd have to stop soon so it wouldn't become a habit. Thankfully, his twitch went unnoticed.

Tony cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together fervently. "Right. So, as you can clearly see, there is absolutely nothing to write home about down here." Barely disguising his irritation, Danvers looked at him in clear disbelief. 

He corrected himself quickly enough with an eyeroll. "Legally speaking, of course. Everything's good and well within the law, not that any self-respecting criminal in their right mind would leave anything for a cop to see. Which you're totally not, I know. And neither am I. A criminal, that is."

"Tony!" Pepper shrieked and yeah, that was a really stupid things to say. A lot of stupid. Why the hell had he let his mouth run like that?

Danvers gave a small laugh. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm going to have to agree with you. There's a lot of advanced technology that I can't even begin to understand down here, and some fine pieces of art, too, but nothing I've witnessed today would lead me to believe that you've got a hand in something untoward."

Really now. Tony perked up, wondering if that meant what he thought it did. "So you're closing the investigation?"

"I'm afraid it's not that simple." Nothing ever was. "In the grand scheme of things, the initial interview is little more than a formality. It's just one small piece out of a thousand, but at least you've gotten off to a good start."

It wasn't much of a consolation at all, but it wasn't like Danvers had a personal vendetta against him. If anything, the guy kinda liked him, and Tony more than kinda liked him back. As annoyed as he was by the whole investigation, having an ally on the other side might make things go a little smoother.

"Plus," Danvers said almost as an afterthought. "Pretty sure if you were a criminal mastermind, you'd have taken over the world by now."

"See, how do you know that I haven't already?"

The fond look he got in return made his pulse quicken just so. "You're something else, Stark."

And here Tony thought he'd trained Danvers to use his first name.

Pepper sighed, bringing the attention to her. "If you're done flirting Tony, I'll see Agent Danvers out now. Wouldn't want to keep him from his son too long."

What time was it? Probably way too late. Tony didn't have his watch on, and it was far too much trouble to go find his phone to learn. "Right." He looked back at Danvers. "You're good, right?"

"I think I've got what I need for now." Wow, what Tony wouldn't give to follow that blush down his neck to see how far it reached. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Stark. I understand that this process might be unsettling for you."

"Not my first rodeo," Tony said with a small smile and a shrug. He was well versed at that point in the art of bureaucracy, having danced that danced for far too long. Danvers held out his hand, and this time Tony didn't hesitate to shake it. There was an echo of the same spark from before, but he found it a little lackluster and left him wanting for more.

"I'll be in touch."

'I'm sure you will,' Tony thought wistfully to himself. But in all honesty, he would be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to their next encounter.

"Will that be all, Mr. Stark?" Pepper's sweet, sweet voice called him from his thoughts. It wasn't too harsh of a reminder that he wasn't alone just yet.

"That will be all, Miss Potts." She dipped her head in response and left his workshop, finally giving him solitude. tony breathed a heavy sigh of relief and hoped it would be the last major distraction for a while.

"You've only got yourself to blame for that one."

The voice startled him into sucking air down the wrong way, and after a moment of painful coughs, Tony spun around. The hair on the back of his neck was raised, but he berated himself for being lulled into a false sense if security.

There, looking not the least bit worse for wear, was Hawkeye. As if the past few minutes hadn't just happened. As if they weren't _that close_ to having to explain what they were doing. Whatever the hell it was that they were doing.

Collisions of thoughts and emotions in his head left Tony grasping for an idea of how to react. There just wasn't any precedent for this in his life, and really, he couldn't tell which was the most important thing to address.

So he did the only thing he could do: he allowed his knees to buckle underneath him and the force of gravity to do the rest. His face had a not so happy union with the floor, and he'd later deny having fainted. Because that was just not something he did.

In the back of his mind, Tony recognized the chewed trainers of the man crouched down beside him as belonging to Hawkeye, but it didn't register that the man was really there until their gazes met. "Why would you let an FBI agent come down here?"

Tony groaned. There were exactly thirty-nine things occurring that he didn't want to face, but hiding now wouldn't get him anywhere. He flipped onto his back in one swift move, trying hard not to flinch as his spine popped in a few places. "Something to do with cooperation. Figured it looks infinitely more suspicious when you act like you've got something to hide, so why the hell not?"

Circles and stars danced in the blackness as he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. Distantly, he could hear Hawkeye stand up and walk away, which really didn't sit well with him. Tony turned his head to the side to follow his movements and had to blink a few times before he could process what he was seeing.

Yes, Hawkeye had walked away, but he didn't look to be in any hurry to leave. He had, _that fucker_ , saddled right up to Tony's precious coffee maker and poured himself a big 'ol cup. Even from a distance, Tony could easily see the steam rising from the mug and that just rankled him.

He'd went ahead and made himself coffee. It didn't really matter why or when, because of course he had. And now he was sitting down on _Tony's_ couch, turning on _Tony's_ TV, and making himself right at home in _Tony's_ workshop slash lab slash garage slash HQ.

"Don't suppose you plan on leaving any time soon." Oh, who was he kidding? He already knew the answer to that.

"I'm watching you," Hawkeye answered distractedly, even though he was paying way more attention to flipping through the channels. At last he settled on CNN, which, okay, points for not putting on FOX or MSNBC, but Tony was in no mood to listen to Wolf Blitzer's raspy monotone hand fed as pointless bite-sized questions to whichever politician of the week wanted to comment on events that were increasingly becoming obsolete. 

Sometimes, he wondered why he bothered getting worked up about the average people anymore. Not when he had annoying asshats breathing down his neck that could use a lot more Tony-time.

It took all of about two minutes and a hell of a lot of restraint to work through a reasonable course of action, with emphasis on resonable. Obviously, the imposition didn't seem to trouble Hawkeye in the slightest, and short of getting in the suit and physically forcing him out, there wasn't much Tony could do. Although blasting him to kingdom come was a little tempting, there had to be a better way to go about asserting his dominance.

With steely resolve, he pushed himself up off the ground, set on a cocksure grin, and walked over to the couch. He gladly cut off another of Senator What's-his-face's xenophobic speeches mid-sentence before pocketing the remote, although he had been tempted to toss the damn thing into the abyss.

"Hey, I was watching that—" Tony wasn't listening in the slightest. He snatched the coffee cup right out of Hawkeye's hands and returned to his desk feeling quite satisfied. A few swipes of the hand and a whispered command to Jarvis brought up his notes on the UI upgrades he was planning for the Mark III in all their shining glory. There were a few tweaks he'd truncated somewhere that had to be written into the source code, and that would take a good chunk of time.

"My coffee..." A pitiful whimper accompanied the heartbreaking wail.

Tony snorted in laughter as he typed in the modifications. "My house, my lab, my coffee."

"No, but coffee..."

"See this mug?" he asked, holding it up without bothering to turn around. "It's got my name on it. Mine. Not yours."

"You don't understand. Coffee—"

"—nope. Don't care." Tony took a sip just because he could, noting with immense delight that claimed coffee tasted so much sweeter. Or Hawkeye could have added some sugar to it, but thinking like that took half the fun out of life.

Twenty minutes into complete radio silence, Tony had the wherewithal to start worrying. It was amazing that it hadn't taken him hours. Programming mode was hard to switch off once on, as it usually sucked him into a realm where the laws of time and space became irelevant. Relunctantly, Tony broke free from his thoughts and took a peak over his shoulder.

He was expecting something bad. Even catastrophic levels of bad weren't out of the question anymore. But there was no real reason to be worried of course.

Hawkeye still lounged on the couch, with his legs up on the coffee table and his right arm pillowed behind his head. At least he had the decency to take his shoes off beforehand, so Tony couldn't complain about him being raised in a barn. Only now he had the whole pot of coffee by the handle, and he was drinking right from it.

"Crazy son of a bitch," Tony called out but otherwise got back to his work. He was surprised when Hawkeye didn't throw a quip back, but not alarmed and certainly not disappointed. If the guy decided that silence was a sudden virtue to observe, then who was Tony to complain?

If he was lucky, then maybe Hawkeye would just fuck off to who cared where while Tony had his back to him.

|~|

Hours ticked by with relatively little change. Tony moved back to doing research quite early on, having grown bored with testing the theoretical applications of a toy he didn't even have use for yet.

There was a shitload of information available to sift through, but narrowing his search to Stark tech only and searching out any possible connections with the US government made it easier. Meeting with Agent Danvers had made him hell-bent on finding any links in the illegal arms trade, although he was still above trolling conspiracy theorist forums. 

So he was a little quick to point a finger at Big Brother. So what?

It was only because there was still a part of him that was reluctant to learn the extent of Obadiah Stane's betrayal, as he was almost certain that Danvers himself was adorably naïve of the affairs. Not that the man who had been like a father to him was alone in or even the head of this cabal. A lot of people were going down on all sides once Tony got to the bottom of it. 

Aliens, government intrigues; he didn't care why these people were doing it, Coulson's speeches be damned. Innocents were knowingly hurt in order to line the pockets of who knows how many people in power.

Oh, he was well aware that he had played a part in everything as well. Most would say that hacking FBI systems and breaking at least a dozen other federal laws wouldn't atone for his crimes, and he'd be one of them. 

In Tony's defense, they had started it first with their total shit investigation, and if they really didn't want him poking around, then they should have invested in better security systems. It wasn't an argument that would win him favors in a court of law or public opinion, but if he wanted to one day wash clean the blood from his hands, then this was a good place to start.

But it was a grinding task, and so far the only thing he'd figured out was that he might want to look into securing a government contract for one of his IT subsidiaries if he had any desire for said government to continue existing in the foreseeable future. 

He'd get right on that just as soon as he dealt with these mishandled shipments. Also after he'd gotten control of his company again. And, you know, maybe he should just clean up the whole chain of command, because he didn't know who to trust anymore.

Wow, there were a lot of things to get done. More than he'd initially estimated, which he should have seen coming. Changing the direction of a multi-billion dollar corporation wasn't going to happen without effort and many long hours. 

Pepper would know how to sort things through. Or he could just make her CEO and be done with it. Afterall, if she could deal with him, then the board members and shareholders would be a breeze in comparison.

Deep into his work, his research, his contemplation, Tony would habitually grab his coffee mug. He never questioned that it always seemed to be at least a quarter of the way full; was barely even aware that it was something abnormal. It was also likely that he'd gotten up to relieve himself and other mundane things, but none of that was important enough to register in his mind.

The only thing he could focus on was information in front of him and running through his mind. However, his guest didn't appear to be able to entertain himself for as long.

"Maybe you should do some work outside these walls," Hawkeye said with a yawn. "You can't have everything in here, can you?"

Tony stilled his hands, allowing a large search to buffer while he paused everything else. He was loath to admit it, but Hawkeye _did_ have a valid point. On the other hand, he was a dick, so...

"Maybe you should do something that doesn't involve babysitting a genius."

No response. Trying not to get his hopes up, Tony turned around to see if maybe he was down a spy. Nah, Hawkeye was just sitting there reading something. He couldn't tell what it was or where it had come from, but it looked obscenely large and heavy.

Hawkeye looked up and over his shoulder when he realized he was being stared at. "You say something?"

"Yeah," Tony drawled. "You know, you have a terrible attention span for a spy. How did you even get as far in life as you have?"

"My attention span's not an issue. I'm just Deaf and I took my hearing sides out." To prove his point, Hawkeye pulled something small out of his pocket and put one in each ear.

"See?" He flaunted the devices so there was no way Tony could miss them, even as hidden as they were.

"Then how did you know what I just said?"

Hawkeye turned back around and started back on his book. "I can read lips, asshole."

Well, didn't that just make Tony feel like the scum of the Earth. He'd gotten shit about his ableist language when he'd shown up hungover to a benefit for Shriner's, and the shame he felt from the liaison's scorn was enough to him a lifetime. To be fair, though...

A Deaf spy? Definitely not something one would expect.

"I bet signing comes in handy whenever you're undercover or doing whatever it is that spies actually do." Tony actually had no idea what a day in the life of a spy was like, but he should probably find out of he wanted to be of any use to these guys.

"I'm not actually a spy."

Tony frowned. "Then what the hell are you?"

With a sly look, Hawkeye reached forward and pulled out something that Tony could have sworn was a quiver. But there was no way that's what it was, right? Hooked to the side was the equally improbable form of a compound bow. And so the mystery of "Hawkeye" deepened.

"You're missing some tights there, Robin Hood."

Hawkeye returned the quiver and shot a glare over his shoulder. "And I don't have merry men, either, because I'm not from Sherwood Forest. I'm a sniper."

The fuck.

No, really, _the fuck_.

"Forgive me, I've been out of weapons manufacturing for all of a month, so my information might be a little outdated, but last time I checked, didn't a sniper use, oh, I don't know, a gun?" Rifle? Bullets? Hell, he'd accept a musket if Hawkeye called himself a Tory, but a bow and arrow?

"You'd be surprised," Hawkeye responded with a small shrug. "With the right skillset, a marksman can be just as deadly, especially when no one is expecting projectiles of this size. Plus, I've got shafts that explode, fletching that can blind ya, and and arrowheads that turn into grappling hooks. It's a lot more practical that you'd think."

Was he even for real? He was seeming more and more like a caricature of... well, Tony wasn't quite sure, but he was having a hard time believing it.

"Riddle me this, then, Lee Harvey: why's a sniper on watchdog duty? And weren't you also playing chauffeur for your boss a couple weeks ago?" Neither of those seemed effective uses for a supposedly well-trained sniper. 

Then again, why did a secret op have a sniper on their payroll? Bullets or arrows, it made little difference; you couldn't cover up that kind of death so easily.

Hawkeye looked away, his shoulders tensed and a pensive look on his face. "I lost a bet with my partner. She's usually the one to do this socializing crap, but she's out doing the fun job now."

Wonder what the fun job was. Also, Tony felt he was rightfully insulted that the loser of the bet had to watch him. Not too much, though, because he knew full well how he could be sometimes. Most of the time.

"Still doesn't explain why you were driving Coulson around."

"I lost a bet with his driver," Hawkeye said morosely, and there was definitely a pattern emerging here.

"Sounds to me like you should stop making bets."

"Yeah, sounds to me like you should shut your fucking mouth." Touchy touchy. Unlike when Tony referred to the possibility of him being into guys, however, there was no venom behind the words.

Tony turned back to his work, but the temptation to not ignore his visitor was too much. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Hawkeye had gotten back to reading, and now Tony really couldn't ignore his curiosity.

"That's a pretty big book to be carrying in your pocket."

There was a long pause before he finally answered: "I have a lot of time to kill."

 _'And not just time'_. Tony did have to wonder, though, why a spy — sorry, a _sniper_ wouldn't keep his full attention on his work. Multitasking was okay when it was conference calls and emails, but outside the 9 to 5 lifestyle, especially for someone whose job it is to kill people, it was probably a bad thing.

But to each their own, he supposed.

"Hey, what do snipers read about in their spare time?" All the progress they'd made would have to be thrown out the window if he was the kind to read _Dan Brown_ or _heaven forbid_ , _Stephanie Meyer_.

The book was shut quite loudly, and Hawkeye let out a theatrical sigh. "If you keep interrupting me with stupid questions, nothing." Oops. Actually, no. Zero regrets on that. "But the thing I'm currently into is all about your cousins in the north."

"I don't have cousins. Or any family in Canada at all."

"You mean you don't have an "Uncle Ned"?"

"Uh, I did have an Uncle Edward, yeah, but he's dead." They also never called him "Ned" before, but it could have been like Ted Kennedy and his nickname.

Hawkeye shook his head slowly. "And now his watch has ended," he said in what could almost be passed off as a whisper. Except that it was obviously intended for Tony to hear, for whatever reason.

What a fucking weirdo.

He thought their conversation was done after that. Really, he did. They'd gone hours before without a single utterance between them, so why wouldn't it go back to that?

Right, because _Tony_ had started it this time, and Hawkeye wasn't one to let something like that go. 

He cleared his throat, an action which Tony successfully ignored up until he began speaking. "So, you gonna continue to sit on your ass all day, or are ya gonna actually do something?"

Tony bristled at the accusation. "If you think I haven't been doing anything, then you obviously have no idea who I am."

"I know exactly who you are, Stark." Hawkeye's hand settled on the back of his chair and Tony flinched. He hadn't noticed any movement, much less that the guy was now directly behind him. "And I know for all that time you stay locked inside your head, you're still a man of action. Flashy, big, look-at-me action most of the time, but you also do subtle real well."

"Your point? Because like I said, I have been doing shit." Not as much as he'd like, but there was no reason for Hawkeye to know how right he was.

"Yeah, but I'm staying holed up down here must be killing you, and you never struck me as the suicidal type." Oh fuck him for that.

"Are you kidding me right now? Do you have any idea how the past few months have been for me?" Tony scoffed and he was all but shouting at that point. His hands were balled into fists and he was shaking from the effort it took not to go over there and sock him in the face. "Being kidnapped by terrorists alone would have most people in therapy for life." 

From the reaction he was having now, therapy was probably a good idea to consider in the future. The _far_ future where he didn't have jack to do with the government and no one cared about him anymore. Not that it was likely to happen ever.

"But you're not most people," Hawkeye said simply, plainly, and infuratingly.

"You're fucking right I'm not," Tony snapped. He gripped his hair tight and laid his elbows on his desk hard enough to bruise. The world was right to call him the Merchant of Death.

Two weeks. Two goddamn weeks he'd been sitting there, looking into all the horrible messes Stark Industries had created. As the CEO and inventor of the more frequently used weapons, Tony could easily say that at least 10% of the contemporary violence in the world could be considered his fault. 20% if one counted all the legal sales, probably even more. Added on top of his dad's legacy, he was looking at a bodycount he couldn't even tally.

Every day, he had just gotten angrier and angrier as he learned where his complacency had taken the world. Yet all this did was shout "me! me! me!". What of all the people who have suffered — were still suffering — because assholes like him cared more about their blood money than the greater good of humanity? All the riches in the world couldn't bring back loved ones or rewrite the countless lives ruined. And he wasn't even in charge of his own company anymore, so he couldn't know how many people had access the the deadly technology that he created, or what kind of people they were.

But there it was again — he was back to making it all about himself. Tony could feel the bile building at the back of his throat when he thought about just ignoring the problems and letting life go on as it had been. He couldn't do that anymore, and he _wouldn't_.

So, they wanted him to do something? Fine.

"What do you expect me to do — part the Red Sea and lead my people to freedom? Or maybe I should call up my congressman and kindly tell them to go fuck themselves. Because that'll go over well."

Hawkeye spun Tony's chair so they were facing one another, assuring they maintained eye contact. "Look, I know you're full of yourself, but you must have a really inflated sense of importance if you think you're Obi Wan in this scenario. You're not special. The world doesn't need you, and you're not our only hope." Tony blinked but didn't dare look away. Not when something was finally being said that made sense, even if it was insulting him.

"You're just another piece of shit whose main redeeming quality is that he recognizes what a piece of shit he is. That makes you better off than most of the other pieces of shit in the world, even a lot of the so-called "good guys", but not by much. No one's gonna be writing any songs about you, because most people ain't ever gonna know about you saving their bacon. That's just how things are." He smiled, something truly geniune, and in the off-kilter lighting of his workshop, Tony began to see the foundation of a compromise. Possibly even a friendship. The speech was sinking in, sowing the seeds of a thousand wonderful ideas.

Even the shoulder clap wasn't enough to kill the mood, as cheesy as it was. "Now," Hawkeye said, the smile slipping into something a little raunchier. "Quit your bitching and go do that voodoo that you do so well.

Tony grinned and let out a gasping wheeze of laugher. Oh fuck, so much for not ruining the mood. "Goddammit, Hawkeye! You use your tongue prettier than a twenty dollar whore."

Eyebrow raised, Hawkeye nodded. "Knew there was a reason I liked you."

And maybe.... hell, maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.


End file.
